


Assumptions

by Isaktlie



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Protective Steve Rogers, alexander pierce is a dick, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-06-04 21:49:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6676633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isaktlie/pseuds/Isaktlie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off of the prompt "Manager at a no-tell hotel and frequent room renter AU (bonus points: assumed they’re a sex worker AU)"<br/>Or the one where Steve assumes Bucky is a sex worker.</p>
<p>Trying to protect Bucky from someone he assumes is an angry former client, Steve gets dragged into a fight he doesn't know. Will Bucky end up using him, or will he somehow keep Steve out of harms way?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve hated his job. Sure, he could do worse, but being the night manager of a shady no-tell-hotel wasn't what he'd consider a good time. The pay was shit, he went to bed when everyone else got up, and he was forced to deal with drunks and the customers of the sex-workers who used the hotel as their HQ. 

Still, it wasn't all bad. It paid the bills, and every once in a while he got to meet the hot guy who'd once introduced himself as Bucky. Steve assumed it was a nickname the brunette used to keep his work and his private life separate, and he couldn't say he blamed the guy. Normally, the man kept to himself, only to be seen when he walked to his room. The last time had been just over twenty minutes earlier, but he wasn't about to say that to the man who'd just walked up to him demanding the room number Bucky staid in. In less than five seconds, Steve had decided he really didn't like the man. 

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to tell you that." Steve said, trying to remain polite even though he really didn't have to. He'd been faced with enough disgruntled Johns to know that was the safest way to play it. Sometimes he'd get a fist to the face, but at least none of the people staying there had been attacked. No one expected him to protect or keep the secrets of the guests, but he really didn't like bullies, and the man standing in front of him was no different.

"I don't think you understand, mister..." the John began, clearly waiting for Steve to fill in his name.  
He didn't.  
"I have a good reason to see that man, and I am not going to let you stay in my way. All you have to do is give me a room number, and you won't even see me again."

Steve could only imagine what had gotten the man so intent to see Bucky. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good, and the john looked like he was munching steroids for breakfast. The blonde was far from a twig himself- normally just relying on his looks to scare off the angry people wanting information on their flavour of the month- but the john didn't seem to care that he was facing someone in his own weight-class.

"You might have a good reason, but I can't help you," he began, getting the feeling Steroid John wasn't going to back down. "I haven't seen him coming in, and he's not signed in." He lied, earning himself a distrustful look before the man he'd nicknamed Steroid John slapped a business card with only a number on the desk separating them.

"Call me if he shows up. You'll be compensated for it." The man said before turning around and leaving. 

The card was in the trash before Steroid John had left the building. 

\--------------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

 

As the days passed with no sign of Bucky, Steve started getting nervous.

He seemed strong enough, but the muscles were probably mainly a tool to help him get customers. For all Steve knew he had no idea how to fight. Raw power wouldn't do him any good against people like Steroid John. Maybe Bucky was used to his johns and anyone wanting to cause trouble being intimidated by his size.   
It seemed his mind had decided to be as awful to him as possible.

With the exception of the redhead who looked at him like she could kill him with a snap of her fingers, Steve had been rude (or at least less polite than he normally strove to be) to all the guests who'd talked to him after the second day without sight of Bucky.

It took a week before he realised it was getting ridiculous; the man was a sex worker, and a strong one at that. Surely he'd been out in cold weather before and knew how to defend himself. He knew how easily targeted they were as a group, but reminding himself of that only made him feel worse about it.

The front door opening yanked him out of his thoughts, seeing just the man he'd been thinking about. 

Relief washed over him, but was quickly replaced with nausea when Bucky came closer and he saw the bruising on his neck and the cut running over his cheekbone.

He'd been too late.  
He'd failed this man by not warning him.

If only he'd stayed a bit longer that night, he could have told him about Steroid John.

"The usual." Bucky said when he reached the front desk, and oh fuck. The sunglasses he was wearing were probably to hide the bruise he could see poking out on the side. 

"Something wrong? I don't have spinach between my teeth, do I?"

Only then Steve realised he'd been staring. Smooth.

"Uh, no sorry." Steve said as he turned his attention to the ledger to make sure Bucky's usual room. "It's just uh. There was this guy looking for you about a week back. He looked real angry too, so I thought you should know. Black hair, greenish brown eyes, strong build." Looked like his favourite meal was blue pills, Steve didn't add.

"Shit. What did you tell him?" Bucky asked, seeming... scared? Was that it? Steve couldn't really pinpoint what the look meant, but fear had to be the right emotion,  right?

"I told him you weren't here. He gave me a number to call, but I threw it out." He told the other. "You know there's centres you can go to, right? Well, I guess that's easier for women, but there's shelters. You don't have to go back." He proclaimed, hoping he wasn't being too brazen, but needing him to know that he had options.

Bucky frowned at Steve's words- at least Steve thought that was frowning, it was sort of hard to see when he was still wearing the shades. "Why would I go to a shelter? I've got the money to pay for the room. I don't know what he's told you, but I can pay." He said with a trace of confusion.

"No, I just thought you might..." Steve sighed. "I'm guessing he found you, and when he does things like that to you," he said with a vague gesture to the cut and bruises. "You don't have to go back to him. I just figured you might want to save your money, and a shelter can protect you. There's one two blocks down."

* * *

 

**Bucky's pov**

 

 

Bucky rarely felt as dumb as the guy behind the front desk made him feel. All he had to do was get to the room, collect the stuff he'd hidden there, and get out, but for some reason tall-hot-and-blonde was making it hard for him. Clearly he was bad at his job. 

It was infuriating really; he'd chosen that hotel because he thought they wouldn't ask any questions, yet there he was. 

When the man gestured to his bruises, he caught himself looking down to see how visible they were before remembering the ones on his eye and neck. Apparently the shades hadn't done as good of a job hiding them as he'd thought, and he'd hoped the lighting would make the one on his neck harder to see.

"What?" He asked, sounding as dumb as he felt before the pieces clicked together. "He's not my boyfriend." He said, because really, why else would he say that he didn't have to go back to him?

He could see the faint tinge of red on Blonde's cheeks as he nodded and looked back down at his book, flipping the page. "Room three fifty-two is available." He said, looking back up at Bucky. "And for the record, I didn't think he was. Just wanted to make sure you knew you don't have to rely on people like that to pay your bills." Blonde stated as he got the key for him.

If Bucky hadn't been surprised before, that certainly got him puzzled, but he did his best to keep it off his features. "Two hours, tops." He said instead, offering the man the money for the room, taking the key before starting up the stairs. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to update regularly, but between school, sports, and other responsibilities, it probably won't be as often as I'd want. I'll do my best to make it a chapter a week though.  
> Once again, thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

When Bucky had gone up to his room, Steve put his head in his hands, internally cursing his own stupidity. 

It was obvious Bucky didn't want him to know what he did for a living. The man probably had too much pride or had been faced with too much prejudice.

"I'm such an idiot," he murmured to himself.

"If you say so." A voice said, making Steve look up only to see the redhead from the other day. She still looked like she could (and would) murder him if he looked at her the wrong way, but there was something different now. Something... playful? 

"Sorry." Steve said, quickly straightening up, only to get a wider smirk from her. "What can I help you with?" He asked in an attempt to regain the professionalism he'd apparently lost somewhere along the way.

"The sheets need replacing. I'm going out, so it's no rush." She said, looking at him for a moment before turning around and sauntering outside.

Steve sighed, knowing he was on his own that night. All Steve would have to do was to change a bed anyway, nothing big, he thought as he marked it down so he wouldn't forget to do it after he'd finished writing down Bucky in the ledger. 

Some people walked in and out while Steve did the paperwork, all looking like they knew where they were going. He'd seen one of the guys before, coming in around ten minutes after Bucky rented a room.

Two hours, tops. That was what he'd said.  
He didn't know how someone could take regulars after being beaten up the way it was clear Bucky had been, but he supposed he might be used to it. The thought made his stomach churn with discomfort. In an attempt to stop thinking about it, Steve checked the room number of the redhead to change the bedding. 

Nadine Roman- 348- five days

After placing the 'Back in five' sign on the front desk, he got what he needed before heading up to the third floor. The numbering was as absurd as ever; the first number indicated the floor as was common, but the second and third... Well, the first room on each floor was 30. On one of his first days he'd been told it was so the hotel would seem bigger, which would apparently make it seem fancier. Steve never really got his head around the logic, but trying to figure it out always came as a welcome distraction as he walked to one of the rooms. 

Three forty-eight was almost at the end of the hallway, close to the fire escape. It had been one of the things the redhead- Nadine- had requested, explaining that she'd had some bad experiences with fires. He hadn't thought much of it, much too distracted by worrying about Bucky and trying not to give Nadine a reason to kill him. 

Steve had just finished changing the bed when he heard shouting and something being shattered. Great. Leaving the towels on the bed, he walked out into the hallway to figure out where the sound came from. It was one of the few rooms further down the hallway, he realised, but was kept from pondering more when the door to three fifty-two flew open.

Bucky's room. 

Everything happened in a frenzy of motion.  
Bucky was thrown out of the room, hitting the wall on the other side. Two men followed him, one of them with a knife. Steve quickly recognised one of them as Bucky's regular, and hurried over to them.  
Using their surprise to his advantage, Steve punched the one with the knife in the jaw, hard enough to send him tumbling into the regular.  
Steve could feel his knuckles aching, but gave them no thought. He had more important things to worry about. 

Everything that happened after that was in a blur, but somehow he'd gotten Bucky with him out the fire escape while the two assailants were trying to get back on their feet. He wasn't sure where they were going before he hailed a cab and gave an address. 

Sam's place. Going to his own didn't feel right, and he supposed it wouldn't be too hard for them to find his address anyway. Fair enough, moving across the hall to the flat of his out of town neighbor/friend wasn't the best safety precaution imaginable, but it was something. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note to self: Learn how to write fight scenes.  
> I found a pocket of time to write, and I've gotten so much positive feedback that I decided to update right away.  
> Once again, thank you so much for reading and all the kudos and comments, they really do mean a lot to me.  
> This is a part of a "no editing" project I'm working on and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Bucky’s POV**

Bucky had been halfway unconscious by the time the night manager got him out of there. He wasn’t sure when or how the man had gotten involved, but he decided to be grateful for it non the less. At least until he passed out in the cab.

When he finally came too he was laying on something soft, a mattress maybe? It didn’t matter, his first priority was figuring out where the hell he was and what had happened. He’d been attacked, he remembered that much, but the details were all a bit fuzzy.

Sitting up quickly, he barely managed to keep from hissing at the pain in his side, knowing how important it could be to remain quiet. He hadn’t been tied down, and there were no one else in the room, so he still had a chance to get out. Apparently, he was on a pull out sofa in a living room, with a clear line of sight to the front door.

With another glance around, he got to his feet and headed toward the door.

He hadn’t gotten more than a few steps when a bird started chirping. It was just his fucking luck, he thought dimly as he continued to move on, ignoring the pain shooting through him every step he took.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t be up.”

The slightly familiar voice came from behind him, he realised, turning around to be prepared for any potential attacks. But who he came faced to was far from who he’d expected.

The night manager from the hotel. What was his name? He wasn’t sure if he’d ever gotten it.

“Where am I?” Bucky demanded, glancing around in an attempt to find a makeshift weapon in case tall-hot-and-blonde was working with Pierce’s crew. It didn’t seem likely, but he’d be in some deep shit if he was wrong.

“You’re safe,” the guy said, getting a disbelieving snort from Bucky. “Some people attacked you last night, I helped you get out of there, remember? You’re in my friend Sam’s apartment. He’s out of town so you don’t have to worry about him.”

Bucky vaguely remembered getting ambushed, frowning lightly as he tried to jar his memory further.  
“You hit one of them after they kicked me through the door.” He said after a moment, still not letting his guard down completely.

“Yeah, they came after you with a knife. I was changing the sheets in a room down the hall.” The man proclaimed.

“I thought you were a night manager,” Bucky said, trying to poke holes in his story.

 

* * *

 

**Steve’s POV**

 

Steve did his best to reassure Bucky that he was safe and that Steve was telling the truth, but so far, he didn’t seem convinced. To be honest, Steve didn’t know what to do to convince him, so he just continued telling the truth.  
“I am, but we don’t have anyone cleaning during the nights, and a guest needed new sheets.”

Bucky scoffed lightly, looking both amused and disbelieving. “I knew the hotel was shady, but seriously?”

“Helps cut costs apparently,” Steve shrugged. “It’s why we’re so popular among your crowd.” He added, causing Bucky’s face to close up. Crap, talk about indelicate. He’d already figured out that Bucky didn’t want him to know – or at least not point out - what he did for a living, yet somehow Steve had managed to go muck everything up.  
“I mea- uh. It’s cheap and by the hour, and we don’t talk, so it’s erm… It’s a natural choice.” He quickly added, hoping to salvage what he could of the situation. “I’m sorry, I get that you don’t want to talk about it.” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Just- I’m an idiot, ignore me.”

Bucky’s face stayed emotionless as he watched Steve, looking like he was wondering whether to run or punch him.  
“How’d you know?” He asked after a moment of staring, his jaw unclenching slightly.

“I uh.” Steve began before taking a deep breath. “You always booked a room for a few hours at a time. There were always at least one guy walking in a few minutes later. Three regulars, and sometimes other people. No schedule for when you booked, but always the same room so they’d know where to find you. And uh. Sometimes I’d have to change sheets and things like that in the neighbouring rooms, and I uh. I heard you. Grunting and things like that.” Steve relayed, tilting his head slightly down in what he thought was a futile attempt to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

He had no idea how the man had figured out what he did, but he knew he didn’t like it. If he knew, chances were he was working with or for Pierce’s people.  
“How’d you know?” He’d asked, needing to know where he’d gone wrong. The possibility that it had all been a ruse was obvious, but if it wasn’t- if he’d messed up somewhere along the line and the man had gone to Pierce… Bucky needed to know. Even if he was screwed either way.

As the night manager started explaining, Bucky was even more careful not to show any signs of emotion. Nothing that could give away anything that could be used against him later. At first it was fairly easy, but then he mentioned three regulars. First of all, he’d only taken one other person there, not three. The guy had been one of the others who’d been running from Pierce. He’d been hurt pretty badly, but Bucky had patched him up at the hotel, then they started comparing notes; what they knew, where they’d been.  
The wording was odd too. Regular almost made it sound like…

Well fuck.

The guy thought he was a prostitute. The grunting from cleaning up injuries. The varying times depending on when he needed an hour or two of shuteye, or to get off the street. The shady hotel. Even the bruises from when he’d ran into an old ‘friend’.

Bucky guessed it wasn’t too far a stretch, and clearly he’d been followed to the hotel more than once. Going back to the hotel was out of the question, but he hadn’t had time to get to his hiding spot before he’d gotten attacked.

After a moment, he looked away, deciding he could use the night manager to get back to the hotel unseen later. Even if he was working for Pierce, Bucky would be in just as much trouble on his own out on the streets.

“I still don’t know your name,” he said, looking back to him. He knew he’d have to gain his trust if he wanted to retrieve the files on Pierce and his organisation, and at the moment that meant playing the part the man had cast him for.

“Steve. Steve Rogers.”

"I guess I should thank you for saving my ass back there." Bucky said, biting his lip softly. "So uh, thanks. D'you mind if I sit back down?" He asked with a nod to the sofa he'd been laying at. "It sort of hurts to stand." 

"Oh, no of course," Steve said, rushing to help him back to it. Normally Bucky wouldn't have accepted the help, but between the part he was playing, and the fact that just standing actually hurt like hell, he let himself be guided to it.

When he sat down at the sofa-slash-bed, Bucky let himself hiss in pain. If nothing else, it might convince the guy to let Bucky stay long enough to earn his trust.  
"Sorry," he muttered as the finishing touch.

If he was real lucky, he might get the files and pull a disappearing act within a week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part of a no editing project I'm doing to improve my writing, so any and all mistakes are my and my alone.  
> Thank you all for reading and for all the feedback I've gotten.  
> I'm trying to update once a week.


	5. Chapter 5

**Steve's POV**

 

After a bit of convincing, Bucky had let Steve have a look at his injuries. It was far from the first time he was grateful that his ma had been a nurse, but when Bucky had pulled off his shirt, he’d had to do his best not to get physically sick at the sight.

The man was littered in bruises and cuts.

Most of them seemed to be centred on his sides, but his back and chest was far from clear.  
Apparently, the bastards had no quarrels with attacking an innocent man from the back, he thought grimly, inspecting one of the worse bruises on Bucky’s arm.

“It looks worse than it is,” Bucky proclaimed. The sound yanked Steve out of his thoughts, making him look up at Bucky’s face. “I’ve had worse.” He added, sounding like he thought it was a normal part of anyone’s day to get beaten up by two thugs.

“I don’t think it’ll do any permanent damage, but you should consider going to a hospital.” Steve responded despite knowing it was likely the man couldn’t afford the hospital bill. If nothing else, it was worth a shot.

Bucky’s face seemed to close up again, the way Steve had seen it doing when he accidentally let on that he knew what the brunette did for a living.

“No,” Bucky said, shaking his head in a way that made a few strands of his hair fall into his face. “I uh… I can’t.” He mumbled, running his free hand through his hair while looking away.

“Okay, well, like I said I doubt the injuries are too serious, so you don’t have to.” He smiled, working to hide his worry. It would probably make Bucky uncomfortable, he reasoned as he finished disinfecting the cut.

“You uh. You can put your shirt back on.” Steve said after a while, closing up the first aid kit.

Bucky looked back at him, seeming surprised for a moment before pulling the shirt over his head, biting his cheek in a way that convinced Steve he was trying not to show his pain.

“Why’re you doing this?” Bucky asked, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You told Ru- the guy who came looking for me that I wasn’t there, but I was. I know I was, because he found me not long after I had left, and he wouldn’t bother going back to the hotel after he got me. So first, you lied for me, then you jumped into a fight for me and got me here. But I don’t see why you’d do that.” He continued, seeming both confused and wary.

 “I don’t like seeing people get hurt.” Steve began sincerely. “It was obvious that the guy didn’t want to find you for noble reasons. And you were outmanned when those guys attacked you. They were the ones holding the knife, so I figured you were the one worth protecting.” He shrugged, hoping Bucky would understand he hadn’t helped for any nefarious reasons.

 

* * *

 

**Bucky’s POV**

 

 

Bucky had needed to know, but the answer didn’t bring much clarity. A part of him felt like he could trust Steve, but that only made him more cautious. No one could be trusted, he reminded himself. The people he felt like he could trust were more often than not the most dangerous ones.

If they could play someone well enough to incite trust, they were most likely good enough to be extremely dangerous. Steve had the physique of an operative, and the way he’d just happened to be there… it all seemed a bit too convenient. Which wasn’t to say he’d try his luck out on his own either- that could potentially be even worse for him.

No. Staying was better for now. All he had to do was play the cover he’d been practically handed on a silver platter, figure out who this Steve guy really was, and finish his mission.

“Alright, thank you. I- I didn’t mean to second guess you or seem ungrateful or anything it’s just…” Bucky cut himself off, taking a breath to seem hesitant. “I’m not used to people just wanting to help out of the kindness of their heart. Not that I think you’re like them, it’s just, you know. Force of habit or something.” He finished lamely, forcing himself not to smirk when he saw how his mark/opponent had reacted to his statement.

Steve’s jaw clenched, and it was clear he hadn’t liked what Bucky had said. His entire posture screamed of protectiveness, and Bucky couldn’t help but think that if he was someone other than who he claimed to be- someone who didn’t believe his story- he was a hell of a liar.

Chances were Bucky was looking at a mark rather than an opponent. Those were the only two things he could afford to view people as. Either marks or opponents.

Once he’d looked at people as friendlies too, but that was why he was in that mess in the first place. He’d allowed himself to consider Pierce a friendly, and now he was running for his life. They probably wouldn’t kill him right away, but he’d be a good option for an example. ‘The traitor who turned his back on us’

Steve was a civilian, but also a means to an end. Playing him for a while didn’t matter as long as he got what he needed and could get Pierce off his back once and for all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for taking so long before updating, but life got in the way, and with finals, a huge tournament, and general responsibilities I've had almost no time to write.  
> This chapter is mostly to get a smooth transition and a better idea of what's going on in Bucky's mind than anything else really. The start of this story was planned out, but I'm running out of pre-planned chapters and it seems to live a life of its own, so I have no idea where this is going. Hopefully it'll make sense.  
> Thank you so much for reading, and all the awesome feedback! This is actually only my second fic posted here, and it really encourages me.  
> If you have any requests- either for new stories or for where you'd like to see this going- please drop a line in the comments.


	6. Chapter 6

**Bucky’s POV**

The rest of the day had passed without any surprises. Bucky had gotten some much-needed shuteye, and after he’d woken up again he and Steve had watched an old spy movie to pass the time. The mistakes and faults of the film almost had him laughing, but he’d managed to keep quiet. Regardless, it had been a decent way to spend time.

Steve had let him get some space too, which he’d gladly accepted. Bucky had always found it easier to think when he was alone, and when Steve had needed to get something, he’d let it slip that he actually lived in the apartment across the hall.

Bucky wasn’t used to being undercover anymore, and even when he had been, he’d been given more to go on about his mark than he had on Steve. The whole plan he had depended on him playing the mark well enough to get the files from the hotel. Which meant earning Steve’s trust, something he couldn’t do without knowing his likes, dislikes, and history.

It all translated to him breaking into Steve’s flat after he’d gone to work for the night. He was trusting, that was for sure, letting Buck stay in a friends place without any supervision. Bucky had only needed to pretend to be asleep on the pull out couch for a bit over an hour- through Steve getting a call from his boss- before Steve actually left.

The guy had even left him a note explaining where he was.

Twenty minutes after Steve had left Bucky was up and moving. He estimated he would have at least an hour to go through the content of the apartments. It was far from ideal, but he’d had less to work with in the past.

Moments later, he’d found some paper clips and bent them into a makeshift lock picking sett, taped the deadbolt so it wouldn’t lock, and started working on the door marked ‘Steve Rogers’  
The surname was swiftly filed away as potentially useful information.

Unlocking the door took longer than normal, but he knew he didn’t have time to think about that, choosing instead to get an overlook of the apartment.

It was small- even smaller than the friend’s apartment- and seemingly well cared for despite how old and worn most of the furniture seemed. Everything seemed to fit with what was to be expected of someone like Steve, if only a bit cleaner.

It wasn’t until Bucky looked over the unopened envelopes on the coffee table he got surprised.

 **Department of Veterans Affairs** stood marked in bold print on two of them. Steve had the build of a vet, sure, but he hadn’t pegged him for the kind of guy who’d put himself in risk for the chance to shoot a gun at people.

Then again, it definitely wasn’t something he’d leave out in the open if he was one of Pierce’s guys. If anything, he would try to hide that part of his potentially fake past.

Bucky continued his search, spotting nothing out of the ordinary in the rest of the living room with the exception of Steve in uniform grinning along with some other soldiers. It could be a ploy to make him trust Steve. ‘You’re both soldiers. You can trust him.’

But maybe, just maybe he could use it to win over Steve’s trust. Tell some sappy story. Preferably, he’d make it not too far from the truth, so it would be easier to remember and seem more believable.

He could think about that later. For now he had to focus on the task at hand.

  


Fifty minutes later, he had finished the light search of the two apartments, and was back to laying on the pull out couch in the living room. During his search he’d found some things that could help him gain Steve’s trust along with what he already knew.  
Former soldier, talented artist, Brooklyn native- grew up not too far from Bucky actually- and definitely not a spy for Pierce.

 

* * *

 

 

**Steve’s POV**

 

Steve felt awful for leaving Bucky alone, but he’d had no other choice than to come in to work. At least for a little while. The broken door and furniture from last night’s fight had already come out of his paycheck, and if he didn’t show he might lose his job.

Normally he’d consider looking out for Bucky more important, but in the current climate, he doubted he’d get a new job anytime soon. Just with the lowered income thanks to the door, he would be slightly behind on rent.  
He was fortunate enough to have a good landlord, but he couldn’t afford to take any chances.

It took him nearly an hour after his boss had left before Steve could go, having convinced Gabe Jones to cover his shifts for a few nights. At first, Gabe had been reluctant, but when Steve explained the situation, it hadn’t taken much persuasion.

He’d rushed back, but when he walked through the door, he saw that he’d had no reason to worry. Bucky was still sleeping on the couch, stirring slightly when Steve closed the door behind him.

He found himself smiling softly before moving on toward the kitchen, relieved that Bucky was safe, and that his absence- however brief- hadn’t brought any trouble.

 “Don’t you ever sleep?” An apparently awoken Bucky asked when Steve was halfway through the living room, sounding like he wasn’t sure whether it was amusing or reason to worry. “You don’t have to stay up for me. I won’t steal your.. lamp or whatever it is people steal these days.” He added with a faint chuckle.

It was hoarse and breathy but refreshing, and for some reason just knowing that Bucky was still able to laugh after what had happened to him, made Steve feel a lot better right away. Even if it didn’t sound like he’d laughed much recently.  
Steve wasn’t sure if he could’ve managed to chuckle if he’d been through what Bucky had been through. Especially not just a day after his johns beating him to a pulp.

“I’m not worried about the lamps, and I did actually sleep some earlier. Passed out in that chair while you were sleeping.” Steve smiled, gesturing to an old recliner.

“How?” Bucky frowned, seeming genuinely confused. “You had a stranger next to you, one you know next to nothing about. Actually you pretty much only know that there’s people trying to hunt me down and that I’m a wh- and what I do. How can you sleep five feet away from someone who could be a crazy axe murderer for all you know?” He elaborated when he saw that Steve wasn’t following his train of thought.

For a moment, Steve was too baffled to say or do anything. He’d already gathered that Bucky didn’t have the best relationship with himself, but to hear him put it so clearly. That he made it so clear that he expected people to view him as a threat rather than a person…

“I don’t think there’s a single axe here.” He began once he’d regained his ability to speak. “And with those bruises and injuries, I don’t think you’d be able to try to kill me without me noticing in time.” Steve shrugged, trying to keep things light hearted.  
“Even so,” he continued. “You were the one being attacked; you were the one who passed out on your way here. It’s kind of clear that you’re not the bad guy in all of this. If you want to tell me more about yourself, I’d appreciate it, but I won’t force you to tell me anything you don’t want to.”

Bucky nodded thoughtfully, clearly considering his options before speaking. “My name’s James,” he admitted, propping himself up into an upright position. “I don’t know if you even had a name for me, so I uh. I usually go by Bucky. Seemed like as good a name as any when I got out of the service.” He shrugged, looking down at his hands.

Sitting down in the old recliner, Steve took him in. It wasn’t surprising that Bucky, James, had been a soldier, but he had to admit he hadn’t expected it either. Lots of veterans had trouble getting a job, and he’d heard about more than one who’d taken their chances as a sex worker. The way he’d fought should have been an indicator, but he’d seemed to heavily favour his right arm which didn’t fit with the military training.

“When did you get discharged?” Steve wondered, deeming it a safe enough question. One that wouldn’t pull on any uncertainties and maybe even get the conversation flowing easier. “You don’t have to answer.” He added to be sure.

“About three years back, I think.” James said with his brows furrowed in thought. “Yeah, just over three years. Medical reasons: Almost lost my arm. It’s not so bad though, they managed to save it, but they didn’t want a soldier with a useless arm, so here I am,” he concluded.

Well, that certainly explained why he’d been favouring his left arm, Steve thought, and come to think about it, he had seen some nasty looking scars on James’ shoulder and arm too.

“What about you?”

The words yanked Steve out of his thoughts, looking up quickly.

“When’d you get discharged?”

“Two years ago, how did you..?” Steve frowned, more surprised than alarmed that he’d somehow figured out that he’d been in the military.

“I didn’t know, but you didn’t question it when I just said ‘service’ and you’ve got the looks of a soldier, well either that or model, but I figured a model wouldn’t be working for a hotel like that. You fought like someone with experience too. Guess you just came off as one.”

“You’re perceptive,” Steve noted, trying not to blush at the compliment. Somehow, James had even made it sound like he was just stating the facts.

“Being able to read people is sort of a necessity in my line of work.” Bucky shrugged.

“About that, and I don’t want to pressure you or anything, but I’ll be of a lot more help if I know what’s going on.” Steve said, doing his best to sound friendly and open, but as James sighed, he feared that he’d failed.

“It’s a long story,” he said. “But you’re right, I guess you deserve to know.” James continued, taking Steve by surprise. He’d been so sure he’d close up or refuse to talk about it, but apparently he’d been wrong. Not that Steve was complaining.

“I joined the army early. It all went pretty well, until I took a tumble down a mountainside, got my arm caught in between some rocks. I was sent home stateside, but… I don’t know. It just wasn’t the same as when I left. Couldn’t get a job either, but one night this guy came up to me. Offered me a job. It sounded like a better plan at the time than it ended up being. In the beginning, I was just working for him, nothing big either, once a week tops. Then he started renting me and my services out. Not that I really minded, a job’s a job, and it helped pay the bills.” He shrugged, seeming slightly ashamed to say it aloud, but not too bothered by it.  
“Fast forward a few years, where I’m sure you can fill in the blanks, I’d started taking on separate jobs without him organising it all. At first he didn’t mind, made it clear it would only happen while he allowed it though. Bills had gotten harder and harder to pay, so I needed the extra cash and decided to keep on doing it. Then, I was at his place, few weeks back, and I stumbled over something. I uh. I’m not going to tell you what it was, but he didn’t want me seeing it. I didn’t realise it until he put his fist to my face.” James said with a faint smile that looked more like a grimace.  
“When he made it clear he wasn’t going to leave it at that, I made a beeline for the door. Got out and went to the first no tell hotel I knew. Yours. I hid out there, at first to get some sleep, and then I went back to some of the guys I knew that tended to use their own places. Didn’t take long before he’d found most of them and scared them to keep away from me or to tell him when I got there, but obviously I still needed the cash, so I went to the streets. Met new people, sometimes worked for some I’d seen back when I was working for him…  
It worked pretty well for about a week too, then he found me, but I got away before he could do any serious damage. I still had some stuff stashed away at the hotel, and I needed some money, so I figured I’d take the risk and potentially kill two birds with a stone. And you know the rest.” He said, clearing his throat.

Steve wasn’t sure what to say. He didn’t know how to react.  
Anger was the first emotion that hit him, but he knew he couldn’t do anything against the guy who’d basically pimped James out. So anger was out of the question. It would probably just scare him away too. Potentially making him run straight back to his former ‘employer’.

Then there was pity, which he doubted someone like James would appreciate either, so he did his best to keep that from view too. Though the way he cleared his throat, as if he was doing his best not to show any signs of weakness, it definitely made it harder to keep all the emotions out of view.

“I… They won’t find you here.” He said, at a loss about what else he could say.

* * *

 

 

**Bucky’s POV**

 

The story had been easy enough to spin. He’d constructed it while waiting for Steve, making sure he had all the details down to a t.

Military record similar to his own, his own name- much thanks to his stupidity of leaving Bucky at the room rental the first time. Luckily, he didn’t think Pierce knew or cared about the nickname, and it had been the first thing that had come to mind when he tried to keep from bleeding through his shirt.

He had no plans to give Steve his surname, and James was a common enough name anyway. If Steve decided to call him by name, he’d instinctively respond, which was something he’d always had a problem with when using aliases.

Keeping as much of the story true seemed to have been a good thing, he noted when he told it. Just withholding some details of the events leading up to his employment, and changing some of the things. It was easy enough. As was coming up with a believable reason for why he was being hunted down, and a fake set of events for the last weeks.

It was clear that his mark was getting conflicted, but it was even more obvious that he’d bought the story.

“I… They won’t find you here.” Steve proclaimed. Bucky wanted to scoff and say that across the hall from Steve’s apartment was hardly a secure hiding place, but he just nodded and continued to look down on his hands as if they were the most interesting thing he’d ever seen.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, glancing up through the hair he’d let grow too long. “I don’t know if I’d even be breathing if you hadn’t stepped in.” He added to close the trap behind his mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long to update it, but as cliche as it is, life got in the way. As an apology, have a longer chapter.
> 
> Once again, this is a part of a non editing thing I'm doing, and any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.  
> I really appreciate all the kudos and feedback I'm getting, and if any of you have any requests for another story, please let me know in the coments.  
> Thank you so much for reading
> 
> I would also like to add that I'm not writing this to make Bucky a bad guy, but he's had his brain fiddled with more than it should. His reactions and ways of thinking are not because he's a bad guy, but because thinking that way has saved his arse previously.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve’s mind had been churning when he laid in Sam’s bed about an hour later, unwilling to leave James alone in the apartment. He didn’t want him to think Steve was about to abandon him or kick him back out on the streets once he was able to walk without being in pain.

Sam didn’t mind that they were using his flat, fortunately. Steve had called him to make sure after he’d gotten James up into the apartment the first time. At least that was one worry out of the way.

Which wasn’t to say he didn’t still have a lot to worry about.

For starters, there was an angry, presumably rich ~~pimp~~ man hunting down James because of whatever it was he’d seen.

Needless to say, sleep had escaped Steve for most of the night.

 

 o0o

 

It was only early the next morning Steve realised he’d fallen asleep at all. A muffled thud had woken him, and his first thought was that James was in trouble.  
In seconds he’d gotten up and opened the door to the living room, expecting to see James on the floor or in some sort of trouble. Though when he saw him, he was standing completely still with the side of his head to the wall next to the front door.

When he saw Steve, he turned around, raising his index finger to his lips to indicate that he should be quiet.

The move left Steve gobsmacked until he heard the telltale creak of his front door.

 _His_ front door, which had to mean someone had picked his locks at… Three forty-two am, his wristwatch supplied.

Silently, he moved toward the door, well aware of how thin the walls were. At another thud, louder this time, made it clear his burglars weren’t.

“Damn it Rollins. Why don’t you make some more sounds, huh?” Steve could hear through the door, the blood in his veins freezing. He knew that voice. Sure, he’d only heard it once before, but that didn’t keep him from recognising it. Steroid John.  
The very man who’d been looking for James a week ago, was now breaking into his apartment. At least he knew he’d been right not to bring James there.

They stood silently by the door for what felt like ages before the men left, making Steve let out a deep breath and step back.

“Are you alright?” He half whispered, looking over James. Only then did he notice the rolled up magazine in James’ hand. As far as makeshift weapons went, he’d seen worse, but it broke his heart that James had felt threatened enough to arm himself in the first place.

James just nodded, sucking in a sharp breath as he shifted to move. Steve immediately stepped closer to help, but James waved him off, continuing on his path back to the sofa.

“I’m sorry they got into your apartment.” James said, dropping the magazine on the coffee table as he sat down. “I didn’t mean to get you into trouble because of all this.”

“Don’t worry about it. Not much there they could take. Even if there had been, keeping you out of their reach is more important.” Steve said, looking over at James. It was obvious he was on edge; his knee was bouncing, his eyes kept scanning the room, and he kept running his hand over a spot on his left arm. Probably where his arm had been caught when he got injured, Steve realised morosely.

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Bucky’s POV**

 

 

Buck should have expected Pierce to send some guys to Steve’s place. He should have seen it coming, but he’d been too busy playing vulnerable. A part of him wanted to just call off the entire plan, but he knew how Pierce had his crews work. Chances were, at least three people were watching the building, and if he were to just up and leave he’d be caught. It would hurt Steve too, which would be bad. Not only were they watching the hotel, Steve worked there, so if Bucky just waltzed in there like nothing had happened, he’d have an even harder time getting what he needed.

Fuck.

He knew Steve was saying something, but he couldn’t for the life of him focus on what it was. Something about reach, if he’d heard correctly, but by the time he’d realised he ought to pay attention, Steve had stopped talking. Evidently it hadn’t been anything important.

Steve was a nice guy. That was the biggest problem.

So maybe he wouldn’t have gotten the help if Steve hadn’t been nice, but if he’d been more of a jerk, things wouldn’t be too hard. Bucky could easily kill him with the amount of trust he’d gained, and then it would be child’s play to get what he needed. Maybe not child’s play, but he could pin the murder on one of Pierce’s guys, and while they were busy tying up the loose ends, he could get the files an make sure Pierce would be off his back for good. The only problem was that he didn’t want to.

Steve had been nothing but kind to him since they’d first met. That was something rare in his line of business. Actually, it might just be the first time he’d come across someone genuinely nice in over half a decade. It was… nice. Steve being exactly the kind of guy he would have gone for before everything that happened didn’t make him more eager to kill him either.

He had been close to deciding on a game plan when a hand on his arm yanked him out of his thoughts. Looking up, he saw Steve’s face filled with concern. Genuine, unfiltered concern, that had Bucky’s stomach drop. He was well aware that he was using the man, but it didn’t hurt Steve. Normally he wouldn’t even worry about that, but for some reason that suddenly seemed important to him.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked for the second time in what felt like a far too short while. He was good, kind, and actually cared about someone he didn’t even know. It was too much, but at the same time, far too little and just right.

Bucky hardly even realised what he was doing as he stood up and pressed his lips to Steve’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than it should, and I am once again sorry but with it being the end of the season, sports have gotten insane. Between playoffs and trying to get in the best possible position for next season I've hardly had time to work on my school stuff, much less write.  
> I will also go on hiatus soon because my best friend will be visiting from a different continent, and I plan to make the most out of the three weeks we have together. Which means this and everything else I've been working on will be put on the back burner from the 15th. I might be able to get up another chapter before that, but honestly, I doubt it.  
> Thank you so much for reading, and for all of your comments and kudos! They really mean the world to me.


	8. Chapter 8

**Steve's POV**

 

Steve found himself kissing back for a short moment before he could think better of it. As much as he wanted to believe that James had done it because he wanted to, chances were he had felt like he had to. With everything James had been through, it was likely he felt like he had to make it worth Steve’s while, and that the obvious choice for him was doing it through sex.

So Steve pulled back, letting go of James’ arm before taking a step away from him.

“You don’t have to do this,” he said softly, resisting the urge to lick over his lips. Taking advantage of James, or doing something he wasn’t completely sure the other man really wanted was out of the question.

Surprise was clear on James’ features when Steve had pulled back, but it soon gave way to something else. Something that looked an awful lot like a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and worry.

“I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” James said quickly, eyes to the ground.

“Don’t be. I get that you feel like you have to do something, but I’m not expecting you to. You don’t have to do anything to make sure I won’t just hand you over to those guys.” Steve said softly, wishing James had looked him in the eyes to see how sincere he was. Of course, he couldn’t force the man either, and he seemed to be set on looking at a particular spot on the floor.

* * *

   
  
 **Bucky's POV**

 

Bucky was a moron. Why’d he thought kissing Steve was a good idea?

Clearly, Steve didn’t have any interest in kissing him. Who would? As much as Bucky tried not to put too much stock in what Pierce had told him, some of the things rang true.

Bucky was a broken soldier: Unable to follow orders, too righteous to be of use, but with far too much baggage to be considered honourable or even mildly respectable. He had no illusions of grandness. There was a reason he’d been picked by Pierce to begin with, and it wasn’t because he was the kind that got what he wanted. At least not unless it was at the expense of others, and honestly he was done harming people.

He’d spent the last three years hurting others, maybe longer if his army days were to be counted. Once upon a time, he would have sworn the things he did there was for the best, but the more he thought about it, the uncertainty grew. Still, he couldn’t linger at that now, not when he had a job to do. Not when he had to salvage this wreck of a situation.

“Thank you,” he said, not sure what else he could say. Hazarding a look up at Steve, he was met with a soft expression, thankfully not yet at the point he’d classify as pitiful.  
“For not… you know. Kicking me out or anything.” He added, forcing on a small smile that hopefully looked vaguely insecure.

“I wouldn’t do that.” Steve said, sounding as sincere as ever, because apparently being open and kind came natural to him. Yet another aspect they were like mirror opposites, Bucky supposed. He didn’t even doubt Steve for a second. Not the way he normally would, after too many years of cynicism and justifiable paranoia.

“They’re going to keep an eye out on the building for a few days.” He said, well aware of how obvious it was that he was trying to change the subject, glancing toward one of the windows. He’d realised while Steve was out that it was a good vantage point, with a good overview of the surroundings but with nearly no points from which someone could look through it into the flat. A snipers wet dream, really, making him feel naked without a firearm. If it hadn’t been for the fact that he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t, he doubted he could have dealt with not having a proper weapon. Especially not with Pierce sending operatives after him.  
“They don’t like leaving loose ends, and they wouldn’t have come here if they hadn’t put the pieces together. They know you’re the one who helped me out, Steve.”

“Then we’ll deal with that when we get to it.” Steve said, thankfully not calling him out on the change of subject. “Listen, James. I get that you feel guilty for putting me in danger, but I’m not exactly helpless, and I don’t regret helping you. It was my decision and I stand by it.”

Of course. Of fucking course he had to continue being a good guy. As if that somehow helped Bucky’s guilt. Which his mind was so kind as to remind him, had never been an issue before.

“You should try getting some more sleep. It’s late, and we won’t figure out how to deal with this tonight.” Steve continued, running a hand through his hair, dishevelling it further in a way that made him look even more kissable. Not that Bucky had any intentions of repeating that fiasco.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Night, Steve.”

“Goodnight James.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hitatus went over the scheduled time, and I'm sorry for that, but the visit I was putting this on pause for went completely tits up within days. So after opening my home and being treated like crap by someone who was supposed to be my friend, I haven't been in the best place lately, and really just needed some time to catch my breath. Which is also the reason for how short this is.  
> I will do my best to have updates up every fortnight, but as you all know, life sometimes gets in the way.  
> This is, as I've said, a part of a no editing dealio I've got going on, and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Additionally, I've forgotten to say it so far (oops) but I don't own anything but the words. The characters all belong to Marvel and their creators, and I earn nothing from this. You all know the shebang.  
> All your kudos and comments really do mean the world to me, so thank you for that, and for reading!  
> I also thought I should say- because apparently this will be a long end note- that English is my third language, and I know it's not perfect, and I'm sure this chapter portrays that. Definitely not my best work, but I'll strive to improve for the next one.  
> Once again, thank you so much for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

Bucky didn’t sleep anymore that night, lying awake with his thoughts instead.

He needed a game plan. Something that preferably didn’t involve getting Steve hurt. The only problem was that all the plans he came up with seemed to involve using Steve as a distraction, which would undoubtedly get him injured at best. Bucky could get someone else involved though. If he kept his involvement in it hidden from Steve, he could probably get away with it too.

Perhaps the guy he’d shared intel with.

No. He was an operative, same as him. They’d shared all they were willing to, and the guy would probably see it coming from a mile away if Bucky suddenly called him up.

With him out of the question, Bucky really didn’t have all that many others he could use. Hell, he hardly had any associates in the country, and the few he did have were all either going to smell a set-up, or too useful to him to lose.

A civilian was out of the question too. Not because of Bucky’s newfound moral compass, but because they tended to be harder to control and more likely to stray from his expectations. In a way, people who’d had years of training were easier to target like that, as long as you didn’t give away your upperhand.

Either way, it looked like he had to do this with a minimum of casualties. Which just so happened to be something he’d never had to do before. When he worked for Pierce it didn’t matter who he used or hurt as long as it got the job done. If anything, he’d get an extra pat on the back for taking the shot when it wasn’t possible to do it without hurting bystanders.

Uncharted territory had never been his favourite, but if it all went sour, he supposed he could make a run for it and come back in a year or two. Being hunted wasn’t a favourite either, but at least he was used to it. Thanks to the insanely non-existent gun control in the US, he could even get armed easily.

Being without a weapon made his fingers itch to steal one, but with the people most likely watching the house, the best he could do was taking a few smaller knives from one of the kitchen drawers. He’d checked to make sure Steve really was asleep before going looking for them. A couple of steak knives had been hid in-between the backrest and seat of the pullout sofa. A small coring knife got hidden in a large flowerpot in the corner of the living room, and four other knives he doubted would be missed soon, hidden around the room and hallway.

If it came to Pierce’s crew finding Steve and Bucky there, he wasn’t about to fold over and play dead. And he sure as hell didn’t plan to let them take him or Steve without doing some serious damage to the team.

By the time he was done, the skies had already lightened outside, and he could hear Steve stirring. Oh well. He’d gotten a decent amount of sleep the day before, and going a few days without sleep would be a first.

Making his way back to the sofa as quietly as he could, Bucky took another look around the room to make sure everything was as it had been before he went rummaging. It didn’t take long after he’d laid down and pulled the cover over himself before he heard the door to the bedroom open, and he closed his eyes while steadying his breath so Steve wouldn’t notice that he was awake.

He stayed like that until Steve had finished his shower and went back into the bedroom, only sitting up when he came back out into the living room.  
After that came a quiet breakfast, mainly filled with small talk. They decided to stay in, in case Pierce’s crew was watching the building, and somewhere between breakfast and lunch things started seeming too domestic for Bucky’s liking.

Gunfights he could take. He could deal with getting shot at, or even blown up a few times. Running through a foreign country while hiding from people wanting him dead? Piece of cake.

Watching the food network next to a hot guy while munching on a scone? Not so much.

The absurdity of his own thoughts weren’t lost on him, but it all made him anxious to make a move. The fact that he got annoyed when Janette the soccer mum got through to the next round despite her cake looking like a train wreck was not to be mentioned or thought of again.

He supposed he ought to be grateful that Steve didn’t press on for answers or talk about what had happened, but down time had never been a favourite of his. The only reason he hadn’t gone stir crazy yet was knowing they’d be in danger if he acted rash, and going over his plans in his head. Problem was, he couldn’t account for every variable. There were already too many players on the board.

 

* * *

 

**Steve’s POV**

 

It was surprising how easy Steve fell into a comfortable rhythm with James. Judging by his reaction when one of the contestants on some baking show got through, James seemed to like it too. Steve himself had only been watching it to keep himself from crowding James, but the way he seemed to get dragged into it made Steve wonder if he liked baking. He didn’t look it, but Steve was all too aware of how wrong stereotypes and assumptions like that could be.

The more he thought about it, the more obvious it became that he really didn’t know the man sitting a few feet away from him. Besides that he was a former soldier with a bad arm currently working as a prostitute, Steve honestly didn’t know the first thing about James. While he was curious to know more, he didn’t want to make the other uncomfortable either.

Deciding to keep quiet, Steve turned his focus back on the show, not sure what else to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a part of a no editing thing I've got going on, and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. Thank you so much for reading, and for all the kudos and comments I've gotten, they honestly mean more than you could imagine to me.


	10. Chapter 10

**Bucky's POV**

 

The next day followed much of the same pattern, with the merciful exception of the Food Network losing its place to card games for the most of the day. At least that seemed to quell the suffocating feeling of domesticity. Of something Bucky didn’t know, and was well aware he would never know. He could fake it- _had_ faked it on more than one occasion in the past, but the soldier in him had never let him slip into it the way he had the previous day. It had always hurt too much; been a too strong reminder of what was and would never be.

The previous day had reminded him too much of when he was a kid, roaming Brooklyn without a care in the world. Sure, things hadn’t always been a cakewalk, but all in all it had been good.

They were memories he didn’t need.

Lingering with the past was a great way to get killed too, and Buck had no intentions of dying just yet. He was so close to taking Pierce down he could almost taste it. Dying before he’d succeeded would mean he’d wasted the last year of his life.

Fortunately, things seemed more like a mission than they had the previous day. Card games had always been a favourite of soldiers and operatives alike during downtime or before an important mission. No matter what, there always came a point where you just couldn’t get more prepared than you already were; when you knew you had gotten all the information you could remember and utilise. That point was always equally excruciating until someone pulled out a deck of cards. Getting to use your hands for something- even something as plain as holding a few cards- and a small shift in focus could do wonders.

 It was clear they both knew they wouldn’t be leaving the flat anything soon, but neither of them brought it up. For a long time, it seemed they both preferred the comfortable silence of their game. Or maybe Steve also knew that their conversational topics were limited at best.

It didn’t matter, Bucky decided, focusing instead on the hand Steve had just laid down, winning yet another round. For a moment, he wondered if Steve was cheating. Then again he seemed like the type who was just ridiculously good at anything he tried his hand at.

“Okay, how’d you do that?” He asked, leaning back in his seat to look over Steve, being faced with the most innocent expression humanly possible. “Seriously. This is the fifth round you’ve won in a row.” He added, making it sound like he was holding back a chuckle to seem more normal.

“Maybe you’re just not as good a player as you think.” Steve retorted with a wide, playful grin.

“Maybe you’ve got aces up your sleeve,” he said, not even having to fake the smile this time. Being faced with the most contagious smile known to man had that effect, and it wasn’t the first time Bucky forced himself to look away. Focusing on shuffling the cards meant not having to be reminded of how clearly different he and Steve were.

They would never work, even if Bucky wasn’t using him; they were too different. Hell, Steve had already made it pretty damn clear that he had no interest in Bucky. He’d been polite about it, but the message was still crystal clear. If he’d been into him, Steve wouldn’t have backed down when Bucky kissed him.

All in all it was better to force himself to look somewhere else every once in a while. His eyes already levitated toward Steve too easily, and looking at that brilliant smile didn’t help.

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Steve’s POV**

James was wonderful.

He was witty, clever, and had a way to draw Steve into conversations no matter how arbitrary the subject was. Most of the time, Steve even forgot that he didn’t know him. The fact that no matter how much they spoke, he didn’t actually learn more, didn’t even register with him.

Still, James seemed to be the silent type, so Steve didn’t press their conversations. He couldn’t say he blamed him for not wanting to talk too much, and Steve had to admit it was nice to just sit and play a card-game with someone.

It was like being a kid again, having fun with friends at a sleepover or even playing a game with his ma to distract him when he was in a hospital. The undercurrent of seriousness was there, but in a way it was muted by fond memories and something he could only really describe as contentment.

James was still shy though, and sometimes he seemed to retract into himself. Steve was sure Sam would have said some clever words and coxed out a smile of James had he been there, but Steve was usually at a loss for what to say. It was painful to watch how it seemed like James didn’t allow himself to be happy. As if he was too used to being hurt for him to believe he could enjoy himself without repercussions.

It broke Steve’s heart.

Changing the subject seemed like the easiest way to deal with it though. So when James did it again, focusing on the cards as if Steve wouldn’t see him if he couldn’t see Steve, he forced his smile to stay in place, and got up.

“Well, you know what they say; best to quit while you’re on top.” He said, quickly realising that James might take that the wrong way. “I’m starving. Feel like helping out with dinner?” He amended.

“Sure, what do you need me to do?” James asked, still not looking Steve in the eyes, but as he got up and looked to the kitchen, Steve decided to count it as a win.

“Feel like cutting the vegies?” He suggested, already on his way over to the small kitchen. The nod he got in return was enough of an answer for him to start placing various ingredients out on the countertop, explaining what he was thinking of making, and what James should do.

Steve wasn’t sure what he’d expected of James, but he sure wasn’t disappointed. The feeling that he man enjoyed baking he’d gotten the previous day quickly shifted to encompass cooking too. The way he worked with the knife made it seem like it just belonged in his hand. As if James had been chopping carrots and onions his entire life.

It was hard not to stare, but he managed to tear his eyes away after a moment, starting his own tasks. If he was a bit more distracted than he normally was when cooking, he doubted James would notice it.

At least until he opened a jar of premade sauce and turned around right into James with it. Normally he took pride in his reflexes, but no matter how quickly he reacted, it just wasn’t fast enough. Sauce spilled all over James’ shirt. The carrots he’d been holding fell to the floor with the impact, and Steve had it half in mind to be grateful James hadn’t been holding a knife.

“Shit,” came James reaction, looking down at his shirt before pulling it off over his head.

Whatever apology Steve had intended to say, effectively died on his tongue at the sight. It was one thing to see him shirtless when Steve was trying to patch him up again, seeing him like that was different. The bruises had faded slightly, and the cuts seemed less angry. The sight still made him all too aware of what James had been through, but this time it also showed him how strong he was. The lean slopes muscles being all too clear for Steve’s higher brain functions to work for a few seconds.

“I’ll put that in the washer for you.” He offered, forcing himself to move and take the shirt. As he made his way out of the kitchen, he made sure not to look back, not wanting to unsettle James. James seemed completely unaffected by being shirtless- probably too used to being ogled for it to even register that Steve had looked for a bit longer than necessary- but Steve couldn’t be like the men who’d hurt James. Like the ones who were hunting him.

Making quick work of the washer, he returned, keeping his eyes to himself this time. James had apparently cleaned up Steve’s mess, back to chopping vegetables as Steve settled by the stove, returning to his task. Getting a fresh jar of sauce, he quickly fell into an easy rhythm with James without even having to look at him.

Eventually, the sizzling in a skillet and a drop of grease hitting James’ chest gave him an excuse to urge James into something less distracting. It didn’t look like he even registered the burn Steve knew he’d felt, but James took the apron Steve had taken from a hook anyway. It wasn’t much, but at least it covered James slightly.

The fact that ‘kiss the cook’ was written in bold print over James’ chest was just Steve’s luck.

It was damn tempting too, watching how the muscles of James’ arms and back worked when he cut the meat he’d moved onto. Seeing how at ease James suddenly looked, even when he’d been half naked. The last time Steve had seen him without a shirt, he’d seemed more guarded. It probably had something to do with not knowing Steve yet and being so clearly injured. Even if he was still injured, it seemingly didn’t bother him the way it had just a day earlier.

It looked like it as something he was used to, and that thought sobered him quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was halfway through writing this chapter in a completely different direction when I read Sweet_Scorpio's comment about Bucky in an apron, and I couldn't resist rewriting it.  
> This is a part of a no editing thing I'm working on, and all mistakes are mine and mine alone. All your kudos and comments are amazing, and really keep me going.   
> On that note, I'd like to thank waiod_64 and Axelle for all the comments. You've kept me from dropping this story more than once.


	11. Chapter 11

**Bucky's POV**

 

Bucky didn’t know where he’d gone wrong.  

While they were playing cards or even in the beginning of their cooking session, Steve was open and friendly. He was, for a lack of a better word; Steve. Then for some reason, something shifted. At first, Bucky had thought he’d somehow scared him. That maybe he’d looked a bit too familiar with the weight of a blade in his hand. Problem was, Steve didn’t seem like the kind of guy to scare easily.

So maybe it was something else. How Steve hadn’t noticed Bucky walking up to him before he’d turned around and they’d collided. Of course, that left him with the same problem as the knife theory.

Though wasn’t it from that point on Steve hardly looked at him? He’d collided with Steve, gotten sauce on his shirt – was it embarrassment? – taken his shirt off, and…

He’d taken his shirt off.

That had to be it. Nothing else had happened that could warrant an even remotely similar response from Steve. Bucky wouldn’t consider himself particularly good looking- nothing like Steve. Once upon a time, he’d been attractive, but now? With scars marring his body and soul? No. He wasn’t an attractive person.

No wonder he’d repulsed Steve. No wonder Steve had jumped at the first opportunity to get Bucky something else to wear, even if it was just a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. Not that the cook would get a kiss.

Which he didn’t want. He was there on a mission. Just a few more days, then he could get out and destroy Pierce once and for all. It was just cabin fever. Yes, that was the reason he noticed things like how soft Steve’s lips looked, and how his long fingers had fiddled with the edge of a card when he was thinking.

Everyone got a bit stir crazy after a few days holed up somewhere. Right? Right.

So what if he’d repulsed Steve? It wasn’t like them fucking was imperative to the mission. It wouldn’t endanger the mission either, on the contrary it could make Steve more inclined to trust him, but a failed attempt would have the opposite result.

So sleeping with Steve was out of the question.

No big deal. He had more important things to worry about anyway, and at the moment that included seeming unaware of Steve’s reaction.

It wasn’t too difficult, focusing on the cooking until his part was done was a good way to seem busy, then setting the table. For a moment he tricked himself into thinking everything would go back to normal, but when they started eating and Steve still hadn’t said a word, he knew it needed something more proactive on his end.

“I’m not holding you away from someone, am I?” He asked after a while, making sure to sound worried.   
“I don’t mean to intrude, and I get that you’d rather be with people you love. A boyfriend or girlfriend, and such.” He continued, knowing how Steve would respond to that would go a long way to help him figure out how to play him.

Steve seemed confused before Bucky elaborated, but once he’d caught on, he blushed lightly – Bucky wasn’t even sure if it was an actual blush or a trick of light.   
“No, I erm. No.” He said instead, leaving Bucky back at square one.

While it was good to know he wouldn’t be dealing with an angry SO anytime soon, it didn’t really tell him anything either. It didn’t tell him if Steve had a crush on someone. If he’d just gotten out of a relationship. For all Bucky knew, the guy could be asexual and have no interest what so ever in sleeping with anyone. So much for his attempt at intelligence gathering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy a short chapter way after it was supposed to be published because I'm awful.   
> I don't even have any good excuses other than having been slightly busy... Hopefully I'll do better next time  
> As per usual:  
> This is a part of a non editing thing I'm doing yada yada yada. You know the drill by now.  
> I also hope you know that your kudos and comments mean incredibly much to me, and I appreciate each and every one of them.
> 
> Also. I am currently really indecisive about whether or not I want to speed things up a bit or continue a bit longer in the format I've done the last chapters. I'd appreciate it if you let me know what you think in the comments!


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

**Steve’s POV**

 

After he’d woken up the day following the sauce on shirt incident, things had thankfully gone back to what he’d started to consider normal.

Steve had already been up long enough to have a shower, and the smell of eggs seemed to coax James out of his sleep. Somehow the awkwardness of the previous night had all but disappeared when James joined him, but he wasn’t about to complain.

He’d almost gotten ready to go on a run before his shower, but reality came crashing before he did something stupid. The people who were after James were most likely still keeping an eye on the building. It showed in the lack of food in the fridge, and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t starting to get a bit of a cabin fever.

Still. It could have been worse, he thought as he put the eggs onto two plates.

They had electricity, warm beds, good company, and enough food to last them at least the rest of the week. So far, Steve had done his best to avoid things he thought Sam had there for specific occasions or clearly fancy stuff, but he doubted Sam would mind. That they’d be holed up another week didn’t seem too likely either. Sooner or later the people who were after James would move on to look somewhere else, and Steve had a feeling it would be sooner.

Steve didn’t know all that much about how criminal networks worked – and it had gotten painfully obvious that that was what they were up against – but he knew how businesses worked. There would be a point where the cost would outweigh the potential gain, and he couldn’t imagine someone like James’ pimp would want to lose resources. At least not for someone Steve was fairly certain the guy considered below himself.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Bucky’s POV**

 

The strange domesticity had come back, but it didn’t take long before Bucky got enough. He didn’t have time to stay with a civilian, playing house. The longer he was gone, the bigger were the chances that they’d toss the hotel room. Sure, the files were well hidden, but Pierce had crews that knew where to look.

No matter how interesting it had been to stay with Steve, it had to come to an end. It hadn’t even always been that good or different. He’d spent most of his time trying to figure out how to play Steve, or how to prepare against a potential attack. Or trying to ignore how good Steve looked. Steve was still wonderfully considerate though; steering completely clear of potentially triggering subjects, or anything substantial for that matter.

The operative in him told him to be grateful, but he could only take so much small talk about movies they’d seen or magpies who’d been made honorary sergeants.

He supposed Pierce’s guys might be less likely to be watching the building after so long too. If he’d been the one doing the hunting, he knew he’d assume his target had hid somewhere more secluded. He’d still keep a small group watching the hotel, but he suspected the apartment would be clear.

At least partially.

In the end, Pierce would be too cheap to bother spending funds guarding a building on the off chance that a former asset would poke its head out. Thankfully, that would be his downfall.

Finding the time to broach the subject with Steve was the hardest, but eventually he decided just to jump into it. Caution and planning be damned; it wasn’t like those had ever been his strongest sides.

“I haven’t been honest with you,” he admitted.

It didn’t take more than one cautionary glance at Steve to realise that he probably should have phrased that differently. _Great fucking going Barnes, not like this is your only shot or anything_.

“I mean, I have, I just… I haven’t. Erm. I haven’t told you everything.” Bucky amended, sounding suitably nervous to his own ears. “I haven’t lied. Not really, but I uh. Remembered when I told you about the thing I shouldn’t have seen?”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Steve’s POV**

When James spoke up, Steve almost choked on his coffee before instinctually making himself far more guarded. James seemed to have seen it too, leaving Steve with an immediate guilty feeling. It wasn’t what James did for a living though; he refused to let that cloud his opinion of him, especially seeing as he’d been forced into it.

Steve just really didn’t like being lied to.

So when James elaborated, he gave him a short nod, followed by a furrowed brow. Had what he’d seen at his former – and Steve mentally shuddered at the word – ‘employer’ been something more dangerous than secret? He’d already figured the man had a more than just a few thugs at his disposal, if not a whole syndicate. It wouldn’t be too surprising if he’d had dangerous information laying around, not considering that one of the people he used as nothing more than sex objects could see it.

It was a disturbing thought, and one that had him re-evaluate his earlier assessment of how soon they’d get out. If the incentive was something more than just petty revenge or punishment, he might just completely disregard the factors Steve had calculated into the proverbial equation.

“I erm. I might have sort of uh…” James said, looking to the floor and rubbing his neck, causing Steve to realise he’d been scowling. Clearly James hadn’t realised it was because of the thought of what he’d been through and the challenges they’d face, not because Steve was mad at him. The lying part was still not a good thing, but given the circumstances, and assuming it wasn’t something too big, Steve would be willing to ignore it. To understand it even.

“I kind of took it.” James revealed to Steve’s obvious surprise, but he continued before he had a chance to say anything. “I- I thought it’d keep me safe. Clearly that’s failed, seeing as I don’t even have it with me, but that’s why he’s after me. Well, it’s why he hasn’t just killed me, but it’s also why he’s working so hard.” James rambled at an impressive speed, avoiding Steve’s eyes and looking like the textbook example of someone preparing to be hurt or reprimanded.

In that moment, Steve wanted nothing more than to make sure that heinous man that was hunting James could never hurt anyone again. It was almost surreal, in a way, to see someone as strong and physically intimidating as James, brought to his knees so completely.

It was heart breaking.

Steve didn’t even know all that had happened to him, but he knew enough, and he’d been friends with Sam long enough to know a thing or two about the human psyche. Extensive trauma, Sam would call it, and say exactly the right thing.

But Steve didn’t know how to fix it.

“Thank you for telling me,” he said, having no idea what else he could say.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, James looked back up at him, seeming almost confused by the small smile Steve gave him. James might not have been truthful, at least not completely, but Steve couldn’t blame him. Nor did he have any intentions of trying.

“Y-you’re not mad at me?” He asked, frowning slightly in a way that only confirmed Steve’s previous assessment of his confusion.

“You were just trying to protect yourself. You didn’t explicitly lie to me either, so no.” Steve said, going for calm and friendly. “Can you tell me what happened to the thing you weren’t supposed to see? You don’t have to tell me, but if someone else is in danger because they’ve seen it…”

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Bucky’s POV**

“No. No, I erm. I hid it… At the hotel. I thought it’d be safe there, and I doubt they’ve found it.” He said, glancing back down at his hands before letting his eyes settle on Steve’s chest. It was a challenging balance, he found, between being too forthcoming, and seeming insecure and ashamed enough. Fortunately, Steve hadn’t just immediately kicked him out, and was still his overly compassionate self.

A part of Bucky wondered if he could have picked a better target for a play like that if he’d tried. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. He’d probably feel less guilty for playing someone else though.

“Could you tell me what it is?” Steve asked, making Bucky’s heart sink. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Of fucking course Steve would want some answers. He was a human being, and had already been more lenient with Bucky than most would be. The only problem was that he didn’t know what to say. The truth? And risk scaring Steve away? A lie? And risk everything falling to pieces if Steve caught a glimpse of the file?

Once he’d gotten the file, it wouldn’t matter though. He’d be able to slip away, never to be seen again. Reinvent himself into someone he could actually stand being. Disappearing was something he knew how to do, and with no obligations holding him back, he’d be able to completely disappear.

Steve seemed to take his silence as hesitancy or distrust though. When he spoke up, his voice was soft like velvet. “I won’t tell anyone. I get that it’s not easy to talk about, but if it’s something criminal, we have to take it to the police.” He said, seeming exceptionally concerned for Bucky’s wellbeing.

How did he do that? How did he manage to seem so completely and genuinely worried about someone else’s wellbeing? _Probably because he actually cares. Because he isn’t acting,_ he thought dimly.

“I’m going to,” he lied. “I know someone who works white collar. We were in the army together. I trust her, but I think they’re watching her, so I can’t go to her right away.” He continued, hoping it wasn’t too flimsy or as self-contradictory as it sounded to him. At least playing it as a white-collar case would work in his favour; people tended to look at it less seriously than violent crime. Not to mention that if Steve did catch a glimpse, Bucky had only said the person he knew worked white collar, not that it was a white-collar case. It wasn’t poor, vulnerable James’ fault that Steve reached the wrong conclusions.

The look Steve gave him was sceptical at best, but something he saw relaxed him enough to nod.  
“Alright, that sounds like a good plan, but we still don’t have it. I’m guessing it’s some pictures or documents or something?”

“It’s a file,” Bucky said, taking a breath before continuing, needing to steady himself before putting everything on the line.  
“I can get it. I just need to get to the hotel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, I haven't kept my once a fortnight update goal/schedule, and I probably won't be able to do that for a while. September/October/November equals PTSD hell for me, so I've had a hard enough time just getting out of bed lately, much less finding the will to write. I think the worst is over, but I'm still not going to make any promises of updates more often than once a month.  
> To make matters worse, when I actually managed to start writing this, it just wouldn't stop. I'm not really thrilled with where I stopped it either, but I felt like I had to get something out to let you guys know I haven't abandoned it. So you get a sort of almost cliffhanger.  
> As per usual, this is a part of a non-editing thing I'm doing, all mista-  
> ... You know all that by now, don't you? I'm not even sure why I add it for every chapter.
> 
> I know I haven't replied to most of the comments, but along with your kudos they really keep me going, and I'd like every one of you to know that I've read them all and appreciate that you've taken the time to read this and share your thoughts.
> 
> Oh, and the magpie who made honorary sergeant is actually a true story, but mainly because of a magpie/sergeant pun


	13. Chapter 13

**Steve’s POV**

 

It’d taken a while, but eventually Steve convinced James to wait at least a day before going back to the hotel. If nothing else, they’d have time to prepare, and James’ body would have another day to heal.

The man hid it well, but it was clear he was still in pain. If it came to it, Steve doubted he’d be able to fight all that well. Especially compared to a handful of thugs with more recent and consistent training and two well-functioning arms.

The more he stayed around James, the more obvious did his favouring of his right hand get. Though if he hadn’t know the story behind it, he would’ve probably just chalked it up to him being right handed.

James was good at hiding things, it seemed, and if that implication didn’t break his heart, he didn’t know what did. Every time the thought crossed his mind, anger bubbled up inside his chest, but Steve did his best to hide it. Fortunately, it didn’t seem like James had noticed. He doubted he’d respond well to realising Steve was angry, even if the anger wasn’t directed at him.

The day progressed just the same as the previous had; calmly but with an underlying tension Steve didn’t know how to describe properly.  
They both knew something bad could happen at a moment’s notice, and neither were ever completely relaxed. They shared a familiarity that had him wondering for a moment how different things would have been had they known each other sooner. If they’d met as kids, or even if they’d met in the service.

Would he have been able to help more than James’ friends had? He wasn’t even sure if James had had any friends when he got back from his tour, and he knew the sad truth was that too many people pushed their friends away when getting home. Either they didn’t feel like the friends understood, or they were too proud, or too stubborn. Sometimes the friends didn’t turn out to be all that good friends either; turning their backs when they were needed the most.

It was pointless to daydream.

He and James hadn’t been childhood friends. He didn’t have a time-machine he could use to keep anything bad from ever happening to James. All he could do was make sure no harm would come to him on his watch.

Unfortunately, it seemed like James was intent on making that as difficult as possible.

“We should get an early night. It’ll be easiest if we leave around four am tomorrow morning. Fewer people out, and it’ll be toward the end of the shift for anyone keeping watch.” He said in the middle of a card game, clearly having realised that Steve wasn’t about to let him go on his own.

“You’re still injured.” He remarked, playing his card as he looked up at James. Steve didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to sound too negative, and he wouldn’t be able to force James to stay, but hopefully he’d be able to convince him to delay it.

It didn’t help that he had no idea what would happen once they’d gotten the file, and James had gotten it to his friend in law enforcement. Would James want nothing to do with him? Would he just leave? If he didn’t, would he keep in touch with Steve because he felt like he owed him?

“It looks worse than it is.” James said in the same moment Steve realised nothing could ever happen between them. He knew himself well enough to know he’d fear that James felt like it was an obligation.

It was like when he kissed Steve.

To James, things like that were a commodity, and Steve wasn’t about to do anything unless he was one hundred percent certain James genuinely liked him. That it wasn’t some sense of debt that drove him to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for how long this took. I know I warned you it'd be a long time, but I thought I'd at least manage to get something up before the end of November...  
> I'm awful, I know. But I think I'll be able to go back to my "a chapter a fortnight" goal now.  
> I don't really like where this chapter ended, and I know it's painfully drab, but I figured I'd best just get something out.


	14. Chapter 14

 

 

**Bucky’s POV**

 

True to his word, Bucky was up and ready to leave well before four the next morning. He felt jittery in the best way. Not too much, so he could still focus, but he was beyond eager to get a move on with things.

He’d always loved the end of a job. It was like the thug of the string to raise a ship in a bottle. Everything would come together perfectly if he’d done everything right, but if he hadn’t, everything would collapse.

It was the ultimate adrenaline rush.

Only this time, the excitement mixed together with something else. Something hard to define.

It wasn’t sorrow, not really. Nor dread. He just didn’t really look forward to never seeing Steve again. Which was stupid; Steve would never want to as much as look at him if he’d known who Bucky really was. If he’d known what kind of person he was.

The fact that Steve was a good man only got confirmed when he walked out into the living room at a quarter to four in the morning, looking every bit as perfect as he always did. He was willing to fight for the little guy in a way Bucky wasn’t unless said little guy was a friend of his or useful.

Maybe his time with Pierce had made him cynical.

Actually, the more he thought about it, the more certain did he become. But that was not the time to dwell on the past. He had a job to do.

Thankfully, he’d already had the time to clear out the various hiding spots he’d found for knives, and felt no remorse for taking one of the nicer blades for himself. Maybe he’d return it if he ever had the chance.

“Ready to go?” He asked Steve, careful not to seem too happy. All things considered, he felt he landed the impression of ‘nervous but decisive’ fairly well. At least it didn’t look like Steve questioned it.

Not that he’d ever questioned what Bucky said.

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Steve’s POV**

 

When he got into the living room, James seemed like a bundle of nervous energy. If the man had had more to wear than just a flimsy tee shirt and ridiculously tight black pants, Steve was sure he’d be in his outer clothes already.

The thought made him uncomfortable in more ways than one. First of all, it was way too cold outside for that to be considered acceptable clothing (he swiftly rejected the voice that told him he might just be mother-henning).

Secondly, it seemed far too soon to go out, but it was ultimately James’ decision, and he was going to stand by him in that. It wasn’t like he could change James’ mind anyway, even though he was certain it was the wrong decision, and there was a possibility that James could be injured.

The thought that he’d gotten too attached too soon had crossed his mind more than once, but as James asked if he was ready to go, it hit him like a freight train. It was stupid of him to think James would want to stay, but he couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed either. Though he was careful to keep it locked down, forcing out a smile instead as he nodded.

“As I’ll ever be.” He said, realising the truth of the statement as it left his lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but hey, I actually posted it on time for a change! That's got to count for something, right?  
> Things are shaping up towards a change, and I didn't want to go from a 600-or-so word chapter, straight onto a umpteen thousand one as it would've been if I hadn't ended this here. Nor would I have been able to post this on time.   
> So all in all it's not that bad.  
> Comments and kudos are like petrol to me, and I honestly would've dropped this fic a long time ago had it not been for your responses. So thanks for that! I really do appreciate each and every one


	15. Chapter 15

**Steve’s POV**

 

 

The trip to the hotel was uneventful, if a bit overly precautious. James took the lead the second they closed the door to the apartment behind them. The elevator was broken, which seemed to please James, even though he’d already insisted they’d take the stairs.

The ease with which James navigated, and to some extent controlled their environment had Steve wondering if he’d really been just a grunt. Though come to think about it, he’d never actually said what he did in the military, just how he got discharged.   
Considering how natural their sneaking came to him, Steve wouldn’t have been surprised if James had been in some sort of special forces.

Though James’ carefulness didn’t make for the most straightforward journey (he’d insisted they’d take the subway in the opposite direction before getting a cab to the back entry of the hotel) it clearly hadn’t hurt. They got to the hotel unharmed and unnoticed, climbing the stairs to the room James had rented without anyone knowing they were there.

Unfortunately, that didn’t last.

Just as Steve got out his master key to open the door to room 352, the door to 351 opened, revealing several armed operatives.

Steve was half way to pushing James out of the way by the time he realised James had already attacked. Something about him seemed different too.  
He moved with a ferociousness Steve had never seen from him.

James held his stand by the door, the narrow frame only allowing two of their opponents to attack them. Blocking hits and knives with apparent ease as Steve worked to cover his left. It was far less noticeable than the last time that Bucky favoured his right, but the men seemed aware of it, focusing their blocks on his right while attacking to his left.

Whomever their opponents were, they were clearly well trained, careful not to allow Steve and James any advantages.   
Not even as much as a weapon. Though Bucky took that in his own hands, pulling a knife out of his boot. The way he moved with it was almost mesmerising, but Steve was careful to keep his eyes on his own opponent.

Until, of course, said opponent got James’ knife in the throat.  
In one fluid motion, James had attacked Steve’s attacker, retracted the knife, and moved on to the assailant that took James’ first opponent’s place.  
The whole thing took barely enough time for Steve to recognise the knife as one of Sam’s.   
A fist to the chest efficiently put an end to Steve’s train of thoughts.

Apparently, their attackers didn’t wait long before replacing their fallen ones, and Steve was once again emerged in a mess of attacking fists, feet, and weapons.

His only blessing was that neither party had guns - or if the thugs had them, they weren’t willing to draw attention to themselves by using them.   
Though even with that, Steve eventually found himself fighting two men while James was pinned against a wall.

He could see James losing his fight, but was too preoccupied with his own to be able to do anything to help.  
But then, just as he saw James starting to slump against the wall, their opponents fell.

The sound of a gunshot echoed through the crowded space, before the operative who’d been holding James by the throat fell to the floor, quickly followed by Steve’s opponents. Steve instinctively searched for the shooter, barely catching a glimpse of red hair and a high heeled boot before the person whipped around the corner and out the fire escape.

It took a moment before he was able to wrap his head around what had happened, but once he got his bearings, he disarmed their attackers, then went to James.

Only he wasn’t there.

At first he was sure James had made a run for it. It’d be an understandable response to almost getting shot, after all, but then he heard a thump coming from James’ room. Clearly he’d just gone to secure the file. Or at least Steve hoped it was him.

He brought one of the knives he’d taken from the thugs just in case, opening the door carefully. And there he was, between the wall and the bed he’d pulled into the middle of the tiny room. No matter how carefully Steve thought he’d been, it clearly wasn’t enough to startle James. He’d grabbed a knife of his own the second Steve entered the room, but quickly turned his attention back to where it’d been.

The carpet on the floor where the bed had stood. It looked just like any other part of the carpet to Steve. When he was about to open his mouth to ask what he was doing, James had already peeled it back with ease, then lifted off a part of the floor

Steve didn’t even bother asking how long the false floor board had been there or how James knew about it. Even though, come to think about it, James had asked for that room specifically.

“Is that it?” Steve asked when James pulled a thick file out of the floor.

“Yeah, help me get the bed back in place?” He asked as he put the floorboard back in place, then the carpet. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, even if the bed wasn’t exactly heavy; at one point, James had been hit by some sort of buzzing button, and he’d heavily favoured his right arm ever since. It was clear he was in pain, and if Steve could do anything to help, he would.

“I’m sorry.” James added as Steve moved to push the bed.

“We knew there was a chance they’d be here, you’ve got nothing to apologise for.” He reassured him, but James just shook his head.

“No, about this.” He said, but before Steve could ask what he meant, James had him in a blood choke, cutting off his brain’s blood supply. It didn’t take long before the world faded to black, no matter how much Steve struggled to break free from James’ grip.

When he came to a while later, James and the file was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I actually wrote a fight scene! It's a miracle  
> I'm not actually happy with it, but because this is a non editing thingy, I sort of had to just roll with it.   
> Anyway, here is the promised chapter. Also, it's not the last one, don't worry. I know I'll do at least one more, but it miiiiight become two. I honestly don't want this thing to end, but conclusions are cool, and I need to practice actually finishing things I write, so yeah. 
> 
> As always, I feed off of your kudos and comments, and I want to thank you all for sticking with this for so long.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to add a teensy tiny content warning here for a mentioned character death. It's in no way graphic or even detailed, but I figure it's best to be one the safe side.

 

 

**Steve’s POV**

 

When he’d first woken up, Steve had been beyond angry. Actually, he’d been enraged once he’d gotten his head around what had happened. Out of all the things that could’ve happened, James attacking him before bailing…  
It hadn’t even occurred to him.

He probably should have seen it coming. James had gotten what he needed from him, and it was the easiest way to make a break for it.

In retrospect, Steve could see why someone with James’ history wouldn’t want to stay back to explain three corpses to the police. It was an experience Steve wouldn’t have minded going without either. James had probably just panicked. It didn’t mean Steve liked it though.

He’d trusted James not to run, to stay and at least have Steve's back. The police thought him mad for it. In their eyes, James was a criminal. Being forced to do what he’d done - either by people or circumstances - didn’t matter to them. Steve could see why they’d have trouble understanding why he’d given James a place to stay despite knowing what he did for a living. Again, understanding didn’t mean he had to like it. It seemed they looked at James as something less than human, and that didn’t sit right with Steve. At all.

It felt like it’d taken an eternity, but eventually they had let Steve go, not charged with anything. It felt good until he turned his phone back on and saw the message he’d gotten from his boss. Clearly he blamed Steve for the wreck that had been made of one of their corridors, and thus Steve lost his job.  
If his landlord hadn’t been as lenient as he was, Steve would have lost his apartment a week later.

It wasn’t a good couple of weeks.

Life eventually went back to normal though, much thanks to his friends. He didn’t forget about James and what had happened, but he wasn’t thinking about it as much either. He got himself a new job a few weeks later, leading a security team for some big tech company, which definitely distracted him more than his last job had.

He didn’t originally know how the company had heard about him, considering that he didn’t actually apply for the job, but he assumed he’d been recommended to them by someone he served with.  
The answer he’d gotten when he’d asked about it was vague at best, but confirmed to him it’d probably been Dum Dum’s doing. The last thing Steve heard, he worked in some form of private security he couldn’t talk about, and Steve didn’t know of anyone else who had enough pull to get him a job. Or who’d want to give him one for that matter; he hadn’t told too many people that he’d lost his job, not knowing how to explain it without telling people about James too.

Dum Dum had pretended not to know about it, of course, but Steve still made it clear he appreciated it.

And he really did appreciate it. He felt useful in a way he hadn’t realised he’d missed. The thought that that was the reason he’d been so eager to help James was swiftly ignored. According to his friends he was self-sacrificing.  
Then again, they had always had a tendency of exaggerating things.

About three and a half months into his new job, he got a rare down period with a few days off. It was dead boring. After only a day he was reduced to channel surfing, trying to find something to distract him. He was just about to abandon the project when he flipped to a new channel only to see the image of Steroid John on the old screen. Unsurprisingly, Steroid John wasn’t his real name, if the name below his picture was to be believed.

He shouldn’t care. He should just change the channel or go out to do something, but for some reason he wasn’t able to tear his eyes away.

“…dangerous criminal network that has, according to our sources, controlled people within various law enforcement agencies, and even Pentagon.” A serious looking woman said, partially to a middle aged, balding reporter, and partially to the camera.

“Then how come, agent Hernandez, that no one has heard about this before?” The reporter challenged.

“There have been more than one attempted whistle blowers, they just haven’t ever gotten very far with it. We linked this group to more than half a dozen murders where we believe the victims have tried to expose the group.” Agent Hernandez replied, causing Steve’s blood to run cold.

“Including this unidentified male victim you found just under four months ago?” The reporter pressed on.

“Well, Bob, we have never claimed he’s unidentified. Just that we don’t wish to release his identity yet, it-“

“Why not?” Bob interrupted.

“Out of respect to him and his family. The victim had been working for this organisation for quite some time - as we have already told the press - and we don’t wish to smear his name.” Agent Hernandez replied swiftly, clearly about to move on when Bob spoke again.

“But if he has been working for this organisation. A highly dangerous criminal organisation, to use your words. How come he deserves your protection?”

“Because from what we can tell, he was never a willing accomplice. Everything points to the opposite. He was a veteran who was forced into this when he returned from active service. Before his death, he conducted an investigation on his own from inside the organisation. Our working theory is that he was found out, then hunted down and brutally murdered by Rumlow. Even if Rumlow didn’t pull the trigger, we know for a fact that he lost his life trying to stop them, and therefore we will not release his name, for the press to drag through the mud.”

The reporter was saying something, but Steve couldn’t focus enough to hear it. It felt as if the TV was suddenly far, far away, and the sound muted through distance or walls.

James.

They had found James, and killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter didn't go I'd planned it at all. I knew what I wanted to happen, but I had a writers block (plus some time in a hospital and a fuckton of school work) and then suddenly this happened instead. So what I wrote about future chapters in the last chapter is probably not right anymore, but I'm not going to say much more because I don't want to spoil anything.


	17. Chapter 17

 

**Bucky’s POV**

 

 

Though it felt like only yesterday, it had been almost five months since Bucky had left Steve laying on the floor of the hotel.

Four months, three weeks, and three days without a word or a hint to tell him he was still alive and well. Not that he thought Steve would want to hear from him. Or that he was counting the days. That’d be stupid.

The moment he’d left, shit had hit the fan, and he’d hardly had the time to catch his breath, much less think seriously about getting in touch with Steve again. Some good people had been taken out by Pierce and his guys, including some of his former sources. Things were far from safe, and he’d fall asleep the second his head his the mattress or whatever it was he was sleeping on for the night. Then, when he woke up, he’d start moving again, never staying in once place too long.

The chance that any of Pierce’s people were still around and angry were dropping by the hour, thankfully. In the last week, he hadn’t even run into trouble once, which was practically unheard of for him even without a massive criminal organisation on his tail. The fact that he’d stayed in the same place almost the entire week, and they still hadn’t found him was even more surprising, but it gave him some hope.

Hope had always been dangerous in his experience, but this time he was armed and ready to deal with it.   
The knife he’d nicked from Steve’s friend’s place had come in handy more than once actually, but he wouldn’t need it anymore.

The last of the hideout’s he’d raided came fully stocked, and he’d gotten a few associates that were more than happy to supply him with weaponry. Though it was still with mixed feelings he looked at the small box in front of him on the table of the dingy motel. Inside, a metal cylinder containing the knife could barely fit. It looked a bit too unceremonious in Bucky’s opinion, but he’d never been one for grand gestures, and it would do the job of concealing the contents of the package from the postal workers and their machines.

It probably wasn’t legal to send a knife in the post, but then again most of the things he’d done the last few years weren’t exactly legal. All he could do was hope it wouldn’t get stopped and that Steve wouldn’t get in trouble for it.

Either way, he’d done everything he could to ensure that wouldn’t happen, short of showing up on Steve’s doorstep himself.

It was too late to back out anyway, he told himself, turning his attention back to the note in front of him. The one he’d been staring at the last hour or so without finding anything inherently  _wrong_  with it. It just wasn’t right either.

‘Steve.

Hope you don’t mind I took this.  
Or at least that it didn’t get you in trouble for that too.  
I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I’m sorry things ended this way.  
That I ended things the way I did.   
You’re a good guy, probably a hell of a lot better than you realise yourself.’

 

Not knowing what else he could possibly add to it, Bucky signed it with ‘Yours, James’

Apparently he was a fucking sap, but he wasn’t about to rewrite the note again. Not when he knew he’d just end up rewriting it another dozen times if he continued. With an air of finality around him, he folded the paper once before putting it in the box with the cylinder, and sealing it all with more tape than strictly necessary. He’d post it a few towns over before heading in the opposite direction.

There was no way he’d not cover his tracks properly. Especially not so soon after clashing with Pierce. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm only a day late, but the chapter is short, I know. I intended to add another part to the chapter, but I've been ridiculously busy, so this is all you'll get for now. I don't want to be one of those people who don't know when to end a story (which I don't) but I think there's still one chapter coming. Well, there's definitely going to be another chapter, but I think that's going to be the last one. 
> 
> Can you tell I've got no idea what I'm doing? I really don't. 
> 
> Anyway, kudos and comments are food to writers, so do what you will with that information.  
> (Though the ones who comment on the things I post have a special place in my heart, you're the best)


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to waiod_64 and Axelle.  
> Thank you for cheering me on and keeping me from dropping this story whenever it got frustrating.

 

 

**Steve's POV**

 

 

Despite his best efforts, Steve hadn’t managed to get any information about James death. Apparently some of the agents thought he was a reporter, and others thought he did it for his job in private security. He’d never gotten further than them asking if he knew James’ name before they either hung up or left when he couldn’t give them his surname.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but he needed answers. He needed to know if James had done what he did because he knew of the possibility that he’d get killed for it. That Steve wouldn’t have let him go alone any other way.

It wasn’t going to change anything, he knew that, but he couldn’t just ignore it either. He had to know more. Had to make sense of things, because the way things were, nothing made sense. Maybe he was just obsessing about something he couldn’t have changed, but he needed some sort of closure. Something that could explain things for him.

If James had known there was a good chance he’d die even after getting the file, why would he ensure Steve couldn’t help him? The answer was obvious, wasn’t it?  
He actually cared about Steve’s wellbeing.  
But that opened a whole other can of worms. Could Steve have seen it coming? Could he have done something to keep James from getting the drop on him?

Could he have saved James’ life?

Had James even known he was going to die?

He honestly didn’t know, and it was driving him insane. How come he hadn’t seen the warning signs? And he really hadn’t seen any. Sure, James had been tense on their way there, but it’d been more worrisome if he hadn’t have been. So maybe it had been a spur of the moment type decision – not that that made it all that much better.

Steve still felt like he should’ve seen it coming, and he was determined to figure out the full story. If that meant pulling in a favour from someone he knew in law enforcement, so be it. It wasn’t necessarily legal, but that was just a detail, and it wasn’t _illegal_ per se for him to ask. It seemed James didn’t have any family if he could at least figure out where he was buried, he could make sure James’ grave would at least be visited from time to time. It’d be worth the shot.

He hadn’t even known if his associate would come through, but as he came home from work one day, it seemed like she had. At least if the parcel waiting for him was anything to judge by. It wasn’t like anyone else would send him a package.

When he got into his apartment, the first thing he did was opening the package, expecting to find a folded up dossier, or maybe a flash drive. What met him though, was his name written in an unfamiliar handwriting.

He read the note twice, then once more, and once more, still not sure how to react. He read the words, but it was as if he couldn’t process them and their meaning. Did it mean James was alive? It had to. But he’d been so sure… Who else could it have been?

The answer was painfully obvious; damn near anyone else.  
He hadn’t gotten that much information, despite his best efforts, and looking at the note in front of him, it was clear he’d drawn the wrong conclusions. He’d wasted so much time pestering law enforcement for details of the death of someone who hadn’t even died.

Someone who’d left him to explain a mess that wasn’t even his own, and then – five months later - sent him a note, as if that would solve everything. As if that would bring anything but pain to Steve. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d apparently stolen something from Sam too. Had it been something belonging to Steve, he would’ve probably just thrown it out.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have. Steve honestly didn’t know anymore when it came to James. James who’d signed with a ‘yours’ before his name. Who’d been through hell more than once, only to end up alone all over again. Who’d ended up alone because of his own damn choice.

Steve really didn’t know what he was supposed to do or react, but eventually unwrapped what turned out to be a knife. In retrospect, Steve knew that was what convinced him. A knife. Out of all the things James could have stolen, he’d taken a weapon to defend them. Not only that, he’d returned it too.

James wasn’t a bad man, Steve decided. A bad man wouldn’t have done what James had done.

A bad man wouldn’t have risked his life the way James had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has taken waaaayyyyy too long to get out to you, but in my defence I've been sick a lot (more than usual), and have had to go a far way for treatment. And I really struggled with the ending too. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you to everyone who's read everything, and an extra thank you to those who's cheered me on since the beginning.
> 
> Let me know what you think about the ending in the comments


End file.
